


Saturday Nights Alright

by TrouserFreeTuesday



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrouserFreeTuesday/pseuds/TrouserFreeTuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skating for a first date? Sure, why not? Hockey for a first date? Not such a good idea, especially seeing as how Dorian has no idea how to play the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Nights Alright

If you asked Dorian a few months ago, he would have said it was looking to be a surprisingly mild winter. Oh, how wrong he was. Standing at an outside hockey rink, bundled up in several layers of clothing, he was regretting his words, and his decision to leave the dorms. It's  _ freezing _ , and Dorian's breath puffs out in front of him whenever his scarf slips down from his nose. He's wearing three pairs of socks, and thankfully between those and the ice skates strapped to his feet the cold is staying away from his toes. His fingers, however, are a different story. Even with gloves, if his hands aren't tucked into his pockets, the cold tries to bite at his fingers like a nippy dog. 

That's not to say the day is all bad. Next to him, Bull is tying the laces on his skates. Despite his larger fingers, they're surprisingly deft. Bull's been trying to take Dorian out for weeks now. Life has consistently gotten in the way until today. First, there was family to see over the holidays (Joy of joys). Then, Varric needed help orchestrating the annual New Years Party for the school paper, and then there was the required day or two of hangover recovery time. Bull and Dorian been texting back and forth over the break, at least, until the early hours of the morning when Dorian's eyes were desperately trying to force themselves shut and every part of him felt sleepy but those three little dots saying Bull was replying kept Dorian awake. Which is a little desperate, honestly. He should have played it cool, taken a little bit longer to respond. At least tried to pretend he wasn't massively into Bull, but like the sap he is, he didn't.

If Dorian were being honest (which he's not), part of the reason it's taken so long is sheer nerves. What if this is a bad idea, what if he gets hurt, and so on. Little nagging thoughts that rattle around and make him put off any further interaction besides returning Bull's jacket. The only reason he'd finally agreed was because Bull had showed up uninvited and Dorian couldn't say  _ no _ to that damned cheery grin.

"Cold?" Bull asks, noticing Dorian's gaze. There's a note of laughter in his tone, but the way is eyebrow arches is all concern. 

"Fine." Dorian says, curtly.

Skating as a first date is a novel idea, and Dorian hasn't quite formed up an opinion on it. He knows how, he's not a barbarian, but to be honest he'd much prefer something indoors. Coffee, drinks, hell he'd take an night of indoor minigolf over being outside in the dead of winter. And Dorian  _ hates _ indoor mini-golf. The rest of the Chargers are already on the ice, racing from one side of the rink to the other. Nets are set up on the ice, and several times Chargers narrowly slide into it. If it weren't for the vigorous laughter, Dorian would assume it was some kind of hockey drill.

"Well," Bull says, rising, "I've got a surprise planned that'll warm you up."

Dorian doesn't get the chance to ask what it is. He's hoping hot chocolate, but something about Bull's grin tells him it's not that. Then, Bull is hollering across the rink. "Krem!Do you have the equipment in your van?"

Krem slides to a halt on the ice. "Yeah, chief! Need a hand carrying everything?"

"That'd be great!" Bull turns to Dorian. "Know how to play hockey?"

The answer to that is no, Dorian does not. And there's a great, prolonged moment of panic as Bull and Krem haul out pads and sticks, and a puck. Dorian has no interest in looking like a fool, but he's not going to look like a poor sport either. While not a smart idea, Dorian briefly entertains the idea of toppling over and faking an ankle sprain. "Oh, weak ankles," he would say. Then, maybe Bull would drive him home and they'd watch some silly made-for-TV horror movie and Dorian would snuggle up against Bull's spectacularly massive chest. Dorian is pulled from this train of thought when Bull thrusts a hockey stick at Dorian's chest. 

"I." Dorian clears his throat. "I can't say I've ever played hockey before."

Iron Bull doesn't even bother to mull this over. "It'll be fun, I'll teach you. Besides, you get uncomfortable, just say the word. I won't blame if you need to take a breather."

Take a breather? Dorian scoffs. "I'm sure I'll pick it up."

Except, he doesn't.

Dorian can pretend all he wants, that he's a natural at everything and is the Maker's gift to earth, but he's having a hard enough time staying upright let alone doing anything beneficial to the team. He's on the same team as Iron Bull, along with Skinner and Grim. Facing them is Krem, Rocky, Stitches, and Dalish. Skinner and Stitches guard the respective nets.It's hardly a professional game, but it's still overwhelming for Dorian. The players whizz past faster than Dorian can keep up. Dorian suspects they're slowing it down for his sake, regardless, based on the hushed exchange between Krem and Bull during a brief break in playing. Their 'furtive' glances were hardly subtle.

Rocky passes to Dalish, past a swearing Grim, and Dalish breaks away towards the opposing team's net. Dorian follows, admittedly slightly behind. Now he's grateful for the quiz Bull had given him on the way over, otherwise he'd never be keeping the Chargers straight. Especially with the nicknames. Skinner? Stitches? Who were these people?

Iron Bull had honest-to-Andraste pulled out his phone, enthusiastically showing Dorian individual photos of each player. The way he'd talked about them he'd sounded like a proud mother hen. So, when Grim gets the puck and passes the puck to Dorian, he knows exactly who to blame. Bull cheers him on, standing next to Stitches net. Stitches, for what it's worth, is trying to elbow Bull away. Fumbling with the stick, Dorian skates forward. No one seems to be vying that hard for the puck, as surely a toddler could come and snatch it away with how poorly Dorian is handling it. There's a good-natured effort, though. Dalish skates by, slashing at Dorian's stick with enough force to make him stumble, but continues past even though Dorian's totally left the puck behind. Desperately, Dorian fumbles with the puck until he's moving smoothly across the ice. Bull pushes in front of Stitches, stick stretched out in front. This must be it. What they call an opening. Dorian smacks the puck in the general direction of Bull. The pass goes through, Bull neatly catching the puck on the curve of his stick and shooting it towards the net. There's a chorus of cheers as Dorian's skate catches on a groove of ice and he starts to fall. Grim grabs his arm before he can topple forward. Grim grunts, giving Dorian a friendly punch on the arm. Then Bull is there, laughing loudly. His laugh is infectious, loud and full-bodied, and Dorian smiles widely. Bull wraps his arm round his shoulder's, pulling Dorian against Bull's chest. It's the warmest he's felt all day. Which may, in part, have more to do with his blush than any actual body heat. 

"Told you I'd pick it up," Dorian says.

"You did good," Bull replies. "Think you can keep up for another period?"

"Bring it on."

It gets progressively better, and though Dorian is still hardly good (He can admit that much), the Chargers pick up their pace and stop taking pity on him. While this means Dorian is playing catch up, it's a little less embarrassing. Being fully accepted into the fold is a whole other story. Because, as Dorian quickly learns, they are  _ violent _ . Like if young siblings never grew out of the whole aggressive play wrestling thing. Bull knocks Krem down, Dalish drives a stick into Grim's back. Never hard enough to seriously injure, but gentle is not a word Dorian would think to use. The Chargers stay away from Dorian though. For a split second, Dorian's convinced that Rocky's charging at him for a body slam, but Iron Bull coughs (loudly, and very very pointedly) and Rocky swerves off in the other direction. Dorian doesn't manage to score any goals, Stitches is near impossible to get a puck past. Bull never seems to have any trouble with it, however.

"You leave your left side open," Bull chides, after yet another goal. Bull's team, and therefore Dorian's as well, are ahead by three to one. "We'll have to work on that at practice on Friday."

The game continues until the two teams are tied. Things get increasingly competitive, more pushing and shoving and swearing, and Dorian feels significantly out of place. At the slower pace, sure, he'd manage to help, get a few passes maybe shoot a few times, but now he's lucky if he even  _ sees _ the puck. Still, it's fun to watch. This is clearly Bull's element. He seems perfectly at home on the ice, even with his cheeks and nose visibly red from the cold. It's, well, not cute, but similar. Bull is not cute. Hot, sure, Dorian would use that. Handsome, also. Everything about Bull seems like it would be aggressive. Lots of growling, and wall-pinning, and  _ really _ aggressive sex (And Dorian has no complaints about that thought). But the enthusiasm in how he plays, and talks about the Chargers, it's gentler. Endearing, even. It makes Dorian feel less silly for being so smitten. 

There's a break away, and suddenly everyone is rushing towards Skinner's net. They push and vie for the puck, but Krem's team manages to evade even Bull's best efforts to cut them off. Skinner stretches out his arms and legs, trying to block as much of the net as possible. Dorian hangs back. Getting a black eye is not in his plans for today. Rocky pushes Bull down, and he falls with a loud "FUCK". Rocky looks about ready to shoot, stick winding back, when Bull hooks the curve of his stick around Rocky's foot and pulls him down with a sharp tug. Krem snatches the puck while Dalish moves closer to the net. In a burst of competitiveness, Dorian skates towards the puck. Grim trips over Rocky's stick. So it's just Dorian, great. Two against one, this'll end well, surely. Dorian moves so he's standing in front of Dalish, in the slightly vain hope he had keep the puck away from the net. Krem moves to the left, sharply, and Dorian jerks to the side to prevent the pass. Just as quickly as he'd gone left, Krem moves right again, shooting the puck between Dorian's legs and right to Dalish. 

Before Dorian can even turn around, Dalish and Krem start cheering. Somewhat more quietly, Skinner swears. 

"It was good effort," says Krem, politely. 

"Thanks. I'm afraid the ice isn't entirely my element," Dorian says, at the same time Grim says, "Shit, chief, you're bleeding."

Bull is sitting up, pressing a hand to his forehead. He pulls it away, examining the new blood on his glove. "Must have hit the ice harder than I thought."

The Chargers move to crowd around Bull, multiple hands pulling him to his feet. Stitches pokes and prods, forcing Bull to bend forward to get a better look. Stitches, according to Bull's briefing earlier in the day, is a med student. Which is probably very useful to have around based on the level of violence displayed today. Similarly, Skinner got his nickname because he likes to hunt, Grim because he's apparently a very morbid and depressing drunk, Rocky because they grew up near the Rocky Mountains, and then Dalish, well, Bull was not entirely clear on where that nickname came from. 

"Doesn't look too deep," Stitches says. 

"So." Bull is grinning widely, "You're saying I won't need  _Stitches_? "

Funny even when bleeding from a head wound. Somehow, Dorian isn't surprised. 

"You will if you keep the jokes up," Stitches shoots back. He helps push Bull towards Dorian. "There should be a clean towel and band-aids in the van, why don't take him? You shouldn't be tired of his jokes yet."

"My jokes are comedy gold," Bull insists, but he goes with Dorian without a complaint. 

\----

"Did I look cool?" Iron Bull asks, cheerily. In the back of Krem's van, Dorian sits next to Bull. There's a strange musk in the air, like sweat but worse. Apparently when they had first climbed in, Dorian had scrunched up his nose at the smell, and Bull had no shortage of laughter about that. Bull holds a green towel against his head, slowly turning darker. The cut may not be deep, but it's bleeding like crazy. Which, if Stitches is to be believed, is totally normal. 

Dorian snorts. "I don't think 'cool' is the word I'd use."

"You'll have to come to one of our actual games, then. Because man, when I manage to knock another player out, I look fucking  _ cool _ ."

"You don't mean to say you're actually more violent at real games?" 

Bull shrugs. "Yeah, why not? They're not my guys. Like, we don't try and  _ kill _ them or anything, we're not animals-"

"You know, I'm glad you clarified, because with the stench in here I was starting to wonder," Dorian interjects. It's probably the hockey equipment lying around the van that's causing the smell. A pile of jerseys lay in a pile on one of the middle seats, and shin pads and helmets are seemingly everywhere in the car. Presumably, the team carpools. 

"It's hockey sweat!" Bull protests. "It's manly!"

"No, cologne is manly. This is," Dorian makes a face, "This is a crime against my nose."

"So hockey sweat isn't a turn on for you, good to know." 

"I doubt it's a turn on for anyone," Dorian says wryly. His cheeks are starting to feel warm, and he turns to stare out the window to hide it. It's not a turn on, but somehow the thought of helping Bull out of his hockey gear, with Bull all sweaty and grinning, after they win a came is. Outside the windows, the Chargers seem to be running drills.

Bull clears his throat. "For someone who hasn't played hockey before, you didn't take too long to pick it up."

"Yes, well." Dorian chuckles. "That's me, natural at everything. Next time, though, we'll have to play chess so I regain some of my dignity."

"Oh?" Bull smiles. "There's going to be a next time?"

"There  _ might _ be," Dorian corrects, before things get too real and out of hand. "You'll have to play your cards right."

Bull shifts, so he's sitting closer to Dorian. He wraps his arm around Dorian's shoulders again, pulling Dorian close enough so that Bull can press his lips to Dorian's cheek. "I can do that."

It's pretty clear they both know there's going to be a second date.

 

 


End file.
